


The Family Jewels

by lofticries



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complicated Relationships, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Pseudo-Incest, Reginald is a CEO, Unreliable Narrator, and the kids are his successors, no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22544224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lofticries/pseuds/lofticries
Summary: Five knows he's the clear choice for succession because, unlike the others, he doesn't have any exploitable weaknesses. He's always in control.Except when it comes to Vanya.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 84
Kudos: 476





	The Family Jewels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pacoca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacoca/gifts).



> God I am DISGUSTINGLY late posting this but this is for the ever-talented amazing Mae who is such an important presence in the fiveya community. I'm so sorry for being such a shitty secret santa, I could really write an essay on the circumstances that led to this but... please just take my apologies <3 I love you and I hope you had an amazing holiday season! You asked for businessman!Five, darkfic, and... porn. So here it is! I really hope you like it ~~but it's totally okay if you don't lmao~~
> 
> Some notes:  
> -Tried to replicate canon relationships as best as I could hence the pseudo-incest tag. Reggie is still an asshole  
> -I modeled Reggie after Steve Jobs so basically the Hargreeves empire is a tech/media/engineering conglomerate and UmbrellaCorp is more or less like Apple Inc  
> -The show Succession inspired a lot of the world-building for this fic!  
> -There's a lot of back and forth in the present and past in the various scenes so please excuse tense issues  
> -Five... is an asshole. Who's always dressed in Armani. What more can I say!  
> \- Sex stuff: Five fucks another woman thinking of Vanya but it's vague at best  
> -Content warnings: copious mentions of drugs/alcohol (Five's an addict) past Leonard/Vanya with implied abuse  
> -Very loosely edited, will go back for a proper look later. Let me know if I need to tag for anything
> 
> Title is taken from Marina's [The Family Jewels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BfLJhGmlfVg) album/song. [Oh No!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cr-SqRWImmI) is a very Five song and [Numb](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7367icMhuI) is a very Vanya song

The minute Five gets off the plane, he’s already craving a cigarette. He switches his work phone off airplane mode and winces at the wave of notifications that blow it up. Scratch that. He needs a good neat Scotch or a couple of lines to handle this. He misses Dot already but Handler wasn’t willing to let him take his personal assistant back to the States with him, no matter how much Five insisted she was necessary.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that Five. Your posting in Germany was temporary and Dot is integral to our operations here. I’m sure you’ll find a lovely assistant back in the States.” Handler stretched her red lips in her trademark plastic imitation of a smile and sent him off to the airport. Now, eleven hours later, he’s back in his hometown, jetlagged as all hell and in serious need of a cup of coffee.

He sneers at the Starbucks kiosk as he makes his way out to baggage claim. _Real_ decent coffee, not that overpriced bland gruel. Whatever it is with Americans’ obsession with Starbucks, Five is dying to know. Good marketing strategy, though, he’ll give them that. uCorp could take a page or two from their book.

There’s a woman next to him, struggling to lift her suitcase from the conveyor belt. She’s got long, brown hair, that somehow looks smooth and shiny despite the long international flight. Five’s mouth goes dry at the sight of her. He can’t look away, well aware of how creepy he’s being. Staring at strangers at an airport. Very classy.

His personal phone buzzes, breaking him out of his reverie. _Did you land?_ Allison. He texts her a quick affirmative - his work phone notifications can wait as soon as he’s hired a competent assistant. That’ll be fun. He’s already drafting interview questions in his head when Allison’s next text comes in.

It doesn’t bode well.

 _Don’t get angry but -_ which is an absolute surefire way to get him angry, and his sister should know that after years of working with him - _your flight information leaked. I know you’re mad, but I have no idea how it happened. There are definitely reporters waiting to ambush you outside the airport so. Brace yourself._

Annoyance surges through him so fiercely, it almost feels like rage. He’s seconds away from throwing his phone on the ground. Allison handles public relations, it’s her damn job to make sure the press doesn’t get wind of his activities. He wanted some time to relax before settling into business but it looks as if he won’t be afforded that luxury.

Five aggressively grabs his luggage off the ramp with a huff. The brunette looks up at him and his heart sinks when he sees her face. It’s not her. Of course it’s not her. Why would she be here? He pushes down the irrational wave of emotion that rises up in him. It’s the jetlag that’s got him seeing things and feeling things he’s better off forgetting. He digs into his annoyance at Allison instead as he storms off to meet the company driver she arranged for him. Shoves his bags at him with a terse, “We’ve got company.”

As soon as he steps outside, there’s the flash of cameras in his face. He forces his mouth into a professional smile, devoid of any pleasure.

“Mr. Hargreeves! What are you doing back in New York?”

“Did Berlin not agree with you, Five?”

“There’ve been rumors surrounding your father’s health. Is there any truth to that?”

“Will you be inheriting his role as UmbrellaCorp CEO?”

Five gives them brisk, sarcastic non-answers, thanking his good sense that he flew in professional clothes and not some damn jeans. Like hell he’d let anyone photograph him in _jeans._ He gives them all a two finger salute when they reach the car, slumping into the backseat with a relieved groan. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as the driver - Roberto? Rodrigo? - pulls them out of the parking lot and away from that pack of vultures. There’s a throbbing in his temple that’s sure to develop into a migraine if he doesn’t get a fucking cigarette. “Please tell me there are some smokes in this godforsaken car.”

The driver laughs at him but pops open the glovebox to toss him a pack of Camels and a lighter. Five catches them with a sigh. Camels. Well, beggars can’t be choosers. He rolls down the window a bit, lights one up and takes one satisfying drag. For the first time in nearly twelve hours, his body unwinds and he finally… relaxes.

...Only to tense right back up again at another notification from his work phone. Jesus Christ. First order of business was getting a proper personal assistant that could filter through the frankly obscene number of emails and calls that he was getting. He turns off his work phone, picking up his personal to send Allison a _thanks for fucking nothing_ text. Chief Director of Public Relations, his ass.

His phone dings, only it’s not his sister snarking back at him. Five grimaces at the name on the screen. Reginald Hargreeves.

_If you’re back, I expect to see you in my office. Today. Do not delay._

Ah, shit. He stands corrected. First order of business: dealing with Daddy dearest. Five bites back a curse and takes another long drag of his cigarette.  
  


* * *

  
Reginald Hargreeves immigrated to the United States with his wife, Dorothea, back in the 60s. Strong in body as well as mind, he first made his mark in the world by joining the Olympic team for fencing and went on to win three Olympic medals. Instead of continuing life as an athlete, Hargreeves surprised the world by going back to school to study computer engineering. Right around the time his beloved wife got sick is when he revolutionized technology and created the personal computer with his colleagues. The same year Dorothea passed away is when Hargreeves founded UmbrellaCorp also known as uCorp. With his wife gone, Hargreeves put all his effort and energy into his company, making strides in the tech world. Launching the computer, then the uPhone, and an assortment of home entertainment devices, Hargreeves quickly rose in power as a technological conglomerate. In 1989, Hargreeves displayed his humanitarian side by adopting seven underprivileged orphaned children. Throughout the years, Hargreeves has proved himself a shrewd business mogul, a revolutionary engineer, and a family man to boot.

Well. That’s the sales pitch that the rest of the world knows. It’s the image his dad’s stood by for the last few decades. But Five knows for the fact that it’s all a hot load of bullshit. It’s been nearly five years since he last sat in his old man’s office, but Five doesn’t think that it’s been long enough. Reginald scrutinizes him with pursed lips. “Your face is all over the tabloids,” he intones without emotion. Five can’t tell if he’s annoyed or disappointed or what. He’s never in his life been able to get a read on the old man. “Number Five, I still don’t understand why you refused to take a private plane home. You might as well have formally announced your return.”

Five grits his teeth. He doesn’t like using Reginald’s private planes for personal reasons. It’s the principle of it all. He’ll buy his own damn plane first. “I flew first class,” he replies stiffly. “And nobody was supposed to know of my arrival. Allison was supposed - “

Reginald slammed his hand on his desk without a change in his expression. “Pushing the blame to your sister? Number Three will be dealt with accordingly but it doesn’t change the reality of your poor decisions. How do you expect to lead this company if you can’t accept responsibility for your decisions?”

Five bites his tongue, hands going clammy with cold sweat. That’s the root of it isn’t it. He’d been in a good position in Berlin, President of their European division, for the past six years. It had been good for him, to get away from the insanity of his family and Reginald breathing down his neck. It’d been hard work but worth it to prove himself.

To show that he was the only viable choice in succession.

“So it’s decided then?” Five asks, ignoring the rest of his dad’s words. “You’re stepping down?” And he’d get everything he wanted? The goal he’s been working for since he was a teenager? Reginald was pushing eighty this year after all and -

Reginald’s eyes flash. “Who said anything about stepping down? Heading the European branch was merely child’s play. You’re not nearly ready enough to be Chief Executive Officer.”

Five is too fucking sober to deal with the old man’s bullshit. He’s not a child anymore. He’s thirty and been involved with the company since he was sixteen. He’s sacrificed his youth, time, and energy to uCorp and he did not fly all the way out here to be told that he’s not ready. “Pardon the language but why the _fuck_ am I here then?” he hisses back, venom dripping from his voice.

Reginald doesn’t even flinch at his tone. He nods at a manila folder laying in front of Five. “President of a foreign division doesn’t even begin to compare to the trials and tribulations that come with owning this company. Perhaps Chief Operating Officer would be an appropriate starting point.”

The anger fades into the background, replaced with tentative confusion. And maybe just a tiny bubble of hope. That all his work wasn’t for nothing. “What - What about Pogo?” The older man’s been his dad’s right-hand for as long as Five can remember. He was far more pleasant and gentle than his father, not necessarily good traits for COO, but important when it came to handling Reginald.

Reginald finally smiles. It’s cold and frosty and Five hates the way it makes him shudder. “He retired. You start on Monday, boy. Prepare yourself.”  
  


* * *

  
Monday does not start off well. The whole floor freezes when Five strides in, including the receptionist who is so stunned to see him she accidentally hung up on all her waiting calls. “I want to see summaries of all ongoing projects,” Five announces to the shellshocked employees. “Give me the numbers and projections. One hour. Conference room. Get started.”

The office explodes. Everyone starts running around and shouting and Five sneers as he walks over to his office. He’s known Pogo since he was a boy and while he respects the man on some level, their management styles are very different. Knowing Reginald, who has a tendency to make decisions without giving anyone any warning, Five would bet that none of these suckers know that he’s going to be in charge of them from now on.

Five pities them. It took the Berlin office nearly a year to get used to him but they at least had the luxury of some warning.

He makes his way into Pogo’s office. It still has his things but Five’ll get a lower level employee to pack it up and ship it to him. Or maybe he can pick it up at the house. He’s musing over the options when an employee walks in with an arm full of papers and freezes at the sight of him. Five raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Um - sir - I have s-some reports for Mr. Pogo - “ Five can barely understand what the man is saying through his stutter - reminds him of Diego back when they were younger - but he just rolls his eyes and extends his hand.

“Give them to me.” This seems to distress the employee even more because as soon as Five says that, the idiot just… drops the papers. Five stares down at the mess with a frown while the employee stammers out apologies. “Alright,” Five says dryly when he passes the messy pile to him. “Scram. And get me some coffee while you’re at it.”

Five’s in the process of logging his information into the system when the employees start drifting into the conference room, flustered and harried, clutching their project materials to their chests. Five spends the next few hours listening to the majority of them hem and haw through their summaries, deeply unsatisfied with the progress. The new Umbrella operating system is supposed to be released in six months but there are still kinks and bugs in it. The streaming platform hasn’t made any significant headway either. He reads over the reports from their HQ back in the west coast, trying to coincide the data with the lack of progress here in the office with little success.

By four in the afternoon, the irritation that’s been bubbling since he got here is scalding, ready to erupt out of him like a righteous volcano. He lines up the project leaders, glaring at them, a single man firing squad and lets them have it. Unprofessional, unacceptable, buggy programming, shit marketing strategy. His employees crumple before his criticism and Five sweeps out of the room, disgusted, head throbbing. The shmuck from before is hovering at his office door and Five can’t help but snap at him. “Really? Not only do you not know how to do your job you’re incapable of brewing a goddamn cup of coffee?”

The man wilts, stammering out broken apologies, and Five has _had it._ Before he can say anything else, there’s a slight touch at his elbow. He turns around, ready to snap at whoever dares interrupt him, but freezes at the pair of familiar brown eyes that meet him.

Distantly, he wonders if he’s hallucinating.

“Sir,” Vanya greets pleasantly, her voice calm and soft. The employee is staring at her like she’s some sort of angel saving him from the gates of hell. “Please don’t terrorize Andrews. He’s a lead programmer, not an assistant. A good one too.”

 _“Ma’am,”_ Andrews replies, horrified.

Rarely is Five ever at a loss for words but he’s absolutely speechless. Words refuse to form. This isn’t real. It can’t be. There’s no fucking way. A side effect of severe jetlag. A stress migraine making him go crazy. There’s no other explanation for his estranged sister, who’s never worked for uCorp in her life, who studied music theory while the rest of them were shipped to business school, to be standing in front of him in a neat pencil skirt with her employee nametag hanging around her neck. Five’s eyes narrow in on it: _Vanya Peabody, Senior Administrative Assistant._

The words of her last name go blurry. He thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Sir?” Distantly, Five’s aware that he’s been silent for the past few minutes. Andrews escaped and it’s only him and Vanya standing in front of his office. He can’t stop looking at her. She’s wearing clothes he’s never seen her in. An expensive cream blouse and a tight pencil skirt. Light makeup with glossy lips. Her hair up in a neat ponytail. _Heels._ Unrecognizable.

Yeah, this is a goddamn hallucination. He barely registers her talking to him, trying to guide him into his office. It’s only when her fingers brush against the inside of his wrist and she murmurs _“Five”_ violently taking him back to when he saw her last; teary eyes and flushed cheeks, that he finally snaps out of it. He jerks away from her, panting harshly and Vanya’s eyes widen. She reaches out for him, mouth opening, but Five takes a few stilted steps backwards and slams the door shut.

He leans forward, resting his forehead on the cool wood. His whole body is trembling.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he hisses under his breath. His voice comes out mangled and he immediately shuts his mouth, wary of her presence still behind the door. He waits, every muscle of his body wrought with tension, until he hears the _click-clack_ of heels tapping away. Then he sinks to the ground, an uncharacteristic move. Five can’t stay down here. He can’t be vulnerable. Not in the office, not while he’s working.

But Vanya. She’s here. Why? How? What is she doing here? Did Dad allow this?

Five knows he’s not in a position to try to unpuzzle this mystery. He’s running on five hours of sleep with a mountain of work in front of him. He should just focus on drafting scathing emails to the management team and setting up conferences with HQ. He doesn’t have the time nor the energy to figure this shit out.

And yet, part of him wants to call Reginald up right now and demand what she’s doing here. He wants answers and he can’t ask anyone else. Including _her._ But he can picture the old man’s response already:

_“First day on the new job and you’re bothering me over personal matters? Do you really have what it takes to lead this company?”_

Five swallows hard. He doesn’t have time for his sister right now.

So he forces himself off the floor, out of sheer force of will, and sits his ass down. The next few hours fly by, completely burying himself in his work. It’s dark by the time he finally gets out of his chair, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. The building is empty as expected and Five trudges to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He should call it a night and head back to the hotel. Order a good whiskey and drink himself to bed. But leaving means breaking the illusion he’d managed to submerge himself in. Dealing with things he’s not ready to face. Not yet.

When he gets back to his office, there’s a steaming cup of coffee and a small plate of cookies waiting for him at his desk. Five scrutinizes it for a second before snatching it and downing half in one go. It’s rich, bitter, and aromatic. Exactly the way he likes it.

And he knows exactly who got it for him too. Five wonders if she often stays late or if today was an exception. He wonders if she had known that he was going to take over Pogo’s position. If she had gotten the benefit of preparing herself before their inevitable reunion while he was left to deal with the unexpected, unpleasant surprise. He wonders and wonders and wonders.

When he takes a bite of a cookie, it tastes like his childhood.  
  


* * *

  
The official story is that all seven of them were adopted by Reginald by a rundown orphanage when they were toddlers on October 1st. With their birth records lost, he’d decided all seven of them would share a birthday. Every October, Reginald would take them out on some extravagant trip with personal photographers documenting the entire process. Those tabloids would weave touching stories of Hargreeves’ legacy. Their private idyllic youth, put on display in the centerfolds of _Vulture_ and the like.

And it was all a lie.

The fact was, not a single one of them got to be children. Their Hallmark origin story? Completely fabricated. Five still isn’t certain how Reginald did it, who he paid off to get rid of their original birth records, but he’s certain they didn’t all come from the same orphanage. He knows his dad.

Everything he did with them as kids was a publicity stunt. And yet, the first ten years of their life, they were locked up inside the Hargreeves mansion. Homeschooled, hidden from society, with only the household staff, their tutors and each other for company.

That first decade, they exclusively went by numbers. No names, just Numbers One through Seven. Dressed in little uniforms that Reginald commissioned with his company logo sewed on the front pocket. No parks, no television. None of that childish fun that normal kids got to grow up with. A convenient detail that Reginald failed to point out to the press, refusing to reveal personal details for the sake of the children’s “privacy.” The saddest part was, none of them understood how messed up it was. Not until it was too late. And even now Reginald _still_ called them by their numbers, and nothing they say ever changes his mind.

They were never his children. They were just walking investments. Insurance to make sure his legacy lived on. “I’ve spent my entire life building an empire,” Reginald told them when they were young. “You are the future of this empire. But don’t think for a minute this is given freely. You have to _earn_ it.”

It’s that attitude that fostered a ridiculous sense of competition between them. The ones that tested high and met Reginald’s expectations were rewarded - toys, clothes, games, uCorp’s newest products. One and Two got into it the most, Reginald’s loyal but dull son versus the rowdy rebellious boy. Three was the golden daughter, cunning and clever, two traits Reginald encouraged in her. Four preferred to slack off but possessed enough natural talent to scoot on by and Six was a hard worker, studiously working to make sure he was at the level Reginald wanted.

Five? He had excelled at everything. Reginald’s star pupil. There had never been a question of it.

The only one that was ever left out was little Number Seven.

Five remembers that she was sick a lot as a child, always having to go to the hospital. By the time she came back to the mansion, she was the outsider. A sensitive, delicate girl, easily prone to tears, a habit Reginald tried to stamp out of her. Reginald was harsh with all of them but Seven always took it particularly hard. Five blames the fact that she spent too much time in the hospital and not enough time at home to build up the thick skin that was a requirement as a Hargreeves. Seven would cry, whine, and whimper while the rest of them learned to bite their tongues until they bled.

“Number Seven” was Dad’s least favorite and it showed.

A pity, because Seven was certainly Five’s favorite. Next to Six of course, but it was different with her. The six of them were always competing. Any weakness showed between them was exploited. Three in particular was brutal about it but somehow she was always forgiven. Five did it out of necessity and got nothing but resentment in return.

With Seven though, it was easy. She wasn’t a threat therefore she wasn’t competition. Hell, with how much she was away from the mansion, Five hardly considered her a sister. He could relax with her, regard her affectionately the way he couldn’t afford to with the rest. Whenever she came back from the hospital, he’d sneak into her room at night to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest. Sometimes he’d crawl into bed, waking her up just to feel her heartbeat.

“Sometimes I worry you’re going to disappear,” he had confessed, solemn and sincere in the way only a child was capable of. Seven always smiled at that, as if she was pleased at his unease.

“I won’t leave without you, Five.” Sticking out her pinky in promise.

He’d link his pinky with her but he broke that promise before she even got the chance to. At sixteen, Five secretly applied for early admission to MIT. Reginald had been furious but the media blowout celebrating Five’s success had been too big to control so he had no choice but to let Five go. Seven had been heartbroken and it hurt to leave her but he needed to get out of that house. He had to make something of himself.

Grace, Reginald’s criminally young trophy wife, had deigned it appropriate to give them all “proper” names since Five was going out into the world. He blatantly refused his. He didn’t want to be Quinn or James or Peter or any of the other names Grace tried to give him.

He was Five Hargreeves.

The rest of them might try to forget where they came from, repress what their dad had done to them, but he wouldn’t. Not ever.  
  


* * *

  
His first month as COO goes by in a whirl of meetings, spreadsheets, and press bullshit. He’s been busy meeting with shareholders, the design team at HQ, reconstructing their product plans for 2020. He’s fired three assistants, revamped seven projects, and chewed out more “senior” directors than he ever has in his professional career. On top of that, every network has been hounding him for an exclusive interview. Five had made sure to host an official conference, announcing his new position, but that still hadn’t been enough for the vultures. Allison sets him up with a reporter from _Business Insider_ and gets him on television with the New Yorker.

“That’s what you get for being the face of the company,” she sing-songs at him when he calls her in the morning, swearing and steaming. He _is_ the face of the company now and it is annoying as it is satisfying. Just because he’s trained to handle interviews, doesn’t mean he has to like it.

His packed agenda means he’s rarely in the physical office these days. Which means he hasn’t been able to catch more than a glimpse of Vanya. This suits him just fine. He doesn’t oversee clerical work anyways so the chances of them crossing paths is minimal at best.

...Though every time he does make it to the office, there’s a cup of coffee how he likes it and some sweet snack waiting on his desk.

Part of him wants to smash the mug to pieces but he always ends up drinking up.

Five wonders if she’s avoiding him. That thought makes his mouth sour. In theory, he could go to her office. In theory, he could make the first move. In theory, he could demand her for an explanation. What the hell was she doing here in his building, in his office? Why was she back in his life when she had her own?

But he doesn’t. Thinking about going to her office doesn’t bode well for him. Not when she walks around in those skirts and sheer pantyhose, looking doll-like and delicate, familiar and not all at once. It makes Five’s head hurt. He doesn’t have time for her sister. Not because he’s a coward, but he’s got better things to do. Like finding a proper assistant for one thing.

And, after discovering the paparazzi camped out in front of his hotel, a new apartment as well.

“I could pick you up in the morning,” Luther suggests at the morning meeting. Five scoffs in his face. He doesn’t need his oaf of a brother to be his _chaperone._ Luther does all of Reginald’s dirty work, stupidly loyal well into adulthood. Five doesn’t hate his brother but he won’t spend more time with him than necessary. He texts Allison specifications for a New York loft and she replies with several middle finger emojis.

He and Luther are overlooking design models for the uPhone set to be released next year. Five snaps that the camera details aren’t up to par and Luther sheepishly asks if there will be more color options. As soon as the design team leaves, Luther returns to Five’s paparazzi problem. “Or you could stay at home for a while.”

Five rolls his eyes. “I can think of nothing I’d rather do less,” he sneers. The Hargreeves estate is completely empty except for Grace, Reginald and Luther. Pogo is considered a guest but he practically lives there as well.

Luther wilts and Five bites back a sigh. With Allison in California, Ben overseas, and Klaus and Diego under the radar, Luther had been alone for a very long time. Logically, Five understands why his brother wants to spend time with him. But Five… would really rather not.

Still, there are things Luther is useful for. Like stepping in front of Five when a wave of overzealous reporters jumps at them as soon as they exit the building. Five scowls and Luther frowns, reaching out to grab the camera currently shoved at Five’s face.

He breaks it because, of course he does. Luther’s a goddamn brute.

The reporter pales at combined force of the Hargreeves’ glares. Five’s voice is cold and icy, frozen with disdain. “If you want an interview, schedule it with my publicist. If you don’t have her email, you don’t have the right to ask for one.”

Luther gives him a rueful look, “I-told-you-so” emanating out of him in waves. “You really shouldn’t be staying at a hotel,” he scolds as they stride to the company car. “Get an apartment, get a bodyguard or move back home. Those are the options.”

Even if Luther’s right, Five won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it to him. He’s about to respond but the driver brakes hard, nearly throwing the two of them from their seats. “What the fuck?” Five demands as the driver starts to reverse. “What are you doing?”

“Mr. Hargreeves, please put on your seatbelt.” The driver’s face is set with tension.

“What are you talking about - “ Five’s words are interrupted by a loud thump. Something is banging against the car’s dark-tinted windows. Through the door, Five can hear muffled, feminine shrieks.

He’s got a bad feeling about this.

The driver lets out a startled yelp and Five leans forward to see a crazed looking woman sprawled across the windshield. She’s wearing a shirt that has a blown up image of his front cover from Times two years back. When she looks up, she makes eye contact with him and screams his name.

“Oh, fuck,” Five mutters under his breath. _Groupies._ Bane of his goddamn existence. Next to him, Luther’s eyes are wide with shock.

“Sir, they must have found out what hotel you’re staying at,” his driver is sweating, clearly not wanting to drive through the crowd of women. “What should we do?”

Good fucking question. Five stares blankly at the chaos in front of him, the high pitched shrieking giving him a headache. He needs a cigarette. “...Maybe I will stay at the estate for a few days,” he says finally. “Until Allison finds me a new apartment.”

Luther brightens up. He reaches out to clasp the driver’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.”  
  


* * *

  
The Hargreeves estate is located upstate near the countryside. Reginald bought the mansion when it was in ruins and cleaned it up. It’s an enormous house - fifty rooms, a dining hall, a ballroom, and _stables_ where Reginald keeps his pedigree horses. Five never understood why it was so huge. However as kids who weren’t able to go anywhere else, its size provided amusement, exploring all the different rooms of the house. The only adventure they were able to have. But Five isn’t here for nostalgia. As much as he hates the idea of staying here, the old man pays good money for the best security in the system. Paparazzi never bothers them here.

The only cameras here are the ones Dad’s installed.

Grace hasn’t aged a day. She beams when she opens the door at Luther’s knock and ushers him inside. “Hello darling,” she coos, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Five nods at her, trying not to grimace. There’s nothing wrong with Grace but he’s never taken to her as a mom-figure the way the rest of them did. She’s married to Reginald but he’s _certain_ that she’s paid to be his wife. There’s no love between the two of them.

“Hi Mom,” Luther accepts her kiss with more warmth than Five. “Five’s fangirls figured out where he’s staying so he’s gonna camp here for a while.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Five grumbles under his breath. His stuff is still in the hotel room but his driver is going to pick up his things in his stead. Grace smiles that perfect ruby-red smile of hers, perfect Stepford wife, and Five shudders, remembering the Handler.

“Then I’ll make your favorite today, sweetheart. Do you want a snack in the meantime?”

“I think the garden has some veggies ready for you to use if you want Mom.” When did Luther pick up gardening? Five declines Luther’s offer to see the greenhouse, saying that he’s got to call Allison and find out how his information leaked, and tell her to clean house in her department before he does it for her. He finds himself in the kitchen, letting out a euphoric groan at the sight of Grace’s automatic drip.

Finally. A decent cup of coffee.

Allison isn’t answering his calls so Five tosses his phone aside with a grunt. It’s strange to be back in his childhood home. He left early for a reason, and the only times he ever came back was when Reginald hosted something related to the company. Fancy board meetings and the like. Unpleasant affairs, every single one of them. It’s been nearly a decade since he’s been back in this prison and his shoulders are wound with tension.

_How the hell can Luther stand to live here?_

There are memories in every corner. Mostly bad, but some good. The kitchen is thankfully neutral territory. The only time Five ever sneaked down here was after Reginald’s designated bedtime to sneakily make a late night snack.

He finds himself walking to the cupboards. He opens them and laughs out loud. His favorite brand of crunchy peanut butter and marshmallows. What are the odds? Grace must go into town fairly often. For a second, he truly pities his “mother”, keeping an empty household well stocked for children that will never come home. But he stamps that part down in favor of making himself a sandwich.

He’s made himself a second sandwich, promising himself to go to the gym tomorrow, when he hears the sound of footsteps approach him from behind. Grace or Luther would scold him for ruining his appetite for dinner so Five turns around, coffee in one hand and sandwich in the other. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat every single vegetable - “

Big brown eyes meet his.

He trails off.

It’s her.

With her damp hair tumbling down to her shoulders, face scrubbed clean of makeup, looking tiny in an oversized hoodie, Vanya looks exactly like the sister from his youth. Five’s mug slips from his grip, shattering loudly on the floor.

She flinches at the sound but Five doesn’t move a muscle. The coffee’s splashed all over his slacks and shoes but he couldn’t care less.

“Why are you here?” Five means to sound angry his voice comes out pained. The tips of his ears flush with shame and Vanya’s face crumples.

 _Good_ , Five thinks viciously. It’s sick how he’s relieved to see her distress. He’s barely seen her since he’s touched down in the states, but every time, her face was placid and professional, not giving him a second glance. Thinking back on her cold distant expression pisses him off. How dare she be so calm when it felt like the Earth stopped moving for him.

How dare it not stop for her too.

“Five,” she whispers, the soft intonation piercing straight into his gut. Her unfamiliar professional persona is completely gone. It’s just her, as he knew her best, and it’s so agonizing to be in her presence, Five can’t bear to speak. “Can we please - “

A small part of him wants to listen. Can they please what? Talk? Hug it out? Pretend nothing ever happened between them? Forget all about the years of silence and resentment, and go back to being normal siblings?

The rest of him simply can’t handle this from her now. Being this close to her in their childhood home, intimate and maudlin, opens up something in his chest he thought he locked up a long time ago. Feelings and memories he hasn’t cared to think about in ages flood his mind, an unforgiving emotional storm and he can’t do this with her. He needs to leave.

Vanya cries out his name when he turns on his heel, stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. “Five, please. W-wait, don’t go!”

“Five’s going?” Luther’s suddenly in the hallway, face smudged with dirt, a basket full of vegetables in his arms. “Five, hey, you’re gonna miss dinner.” His brother looks between Vanya’s broken expression and Five’s tense shoulders nervously. “Mom said she’s making your favorite. Where - where are you going?”

Five reaches the front door and yanks it open viciously. Fuck this goddamn cursed house and fuck his twisted heart. “Anywhere but here.”  
  


* * *

  
When you’re a boy wonder, teen-genius attending college, it’s hard to fit in with your peers. Five remembers having to deal with older girls cooing at him even when he towered over them and older dudes making inappropriate jokes just to see if the “baby freshman” would blush if he heard the word “pussy” enough times during day lecture.

Despite the blistering irritation he’d felt at their frankly offensive behavior, Five didn’t take it to heart. He stuck his nose up at them and worked harder on his coding than anyone else. For the first two years, he focused on nothing but his schoolwork, still adjusting to the outside world.

Then he turned eighteen and everything changed.

Looking back on it, the fact that the girls in his course had a countdown to his eighteenth birthday was incredibly creepy. But Five didn’t see it that way when he was dragged out to his first frat party, got drunk off shitty beer and lost his virginity to a senior with an incredible ass in a cramped closet. It felt good to let go in such a simple, vulgar manner. Humans are, past all the layers of bullshit, just animals after all. Slaves to their own desires and hubris no matter how hard they tried to fight it.

As much as Five was dedicated to his work, a perfectionist on top of everything else, he was also a man of his vices. As a child, it was his sweet tooth. Obstinately demanding dessert after dinner even if it wasn’t allowed. And as an adult… it was everything else. Cocaine boosted his energy and creativity when he was in a slump. Cigarettes relaxed him after long, tense days of dealing with other people’s bullshit. Alcohol - well, it probably wasn’t a good thing that he was an alcoholic, given his temper, but Five wasn’t going to stop.

And sex? That was just fun.

Which is why he’s found himself at an upscale bar downtown, ditching his suit jacket and tie in the car, and nursing his third whiskey sour. There’s a pretty woman in a glittery gauzy dress who keeps making eyes at him from the dance floor, biting her lip and running her hands through her hair flirtatiously. He raises his glass to her with a quirk of his eyebrow, satisfied that it’s enough to get her to head over to him.

Five’s not in his twenties anymore, he can’t just go to bars and pick up women. He had his party animal phase and was able to enjoy it with little consequence. Especially back when Klaus was the media favorite, every single scandal he found himself into plastered on tabloids. Even Allison took the heat off him with her brief stint with Hollywood. Now with the burden of the company on his shoulders, he’s got his reputation to think about. Can’t afford to tarnish it and excuse it away as the follies of youth.

But there’s a tingling itch under his skin, blistering heat in his blood, and three drinks and half-assed conversation later, he rests his hand on her bare thigh, with a smooth “Do you want to get out of here?”

He can’t recall her name but she’s easy on the eyes despite the dress. Long blonde hair, bright hazel eyes, maybe a little too much makeup but she’s got the look of a confident woman that knows she’s attractive and knows what she wants.

Most importantly though, she doesn’t look anything like his sister.

He takes her back to the car, fully prepared to fuck her in the backseat. There’s nowhere else for him to go and getting a hotel room for a spur of the moment hookup is tacky. “You need to sign an NDA,” he slurs against her mouth when she throws her body against his, kissing him fiercely. He needs this, but he’s not risking anything for it.

Five has her in his lap, her dress hiked up around her hips, acrylic nails digging sharply into his shoulders as he fucks up into her with short erratic thrusts. She’s panting wetly against his neck and his hand is fisting her hair. He can’t see her well at all in the darkness but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what this is about.

She’s just a body, hot and slick around his dick, the conduit of his chase for oblivion in pleasure. His mind completely blank except for the physical sensation of pounding into her cunt.

And yet as his climax builds, Vanya’s face, pale and distraught, slithers into his mind. He wishes he had been close enough to smell her shampoo. He wonders if her scent has changed at all.

_“Five, please.”_

His whole body jerks as he finishes into the condom, squeezing his eyes shut. He bites down on his lip to hold back his groan. Vanya’s face stays etched into his eyelids, through the aftershocks of orgasm until the end of the night when he finally drags himself back home and collapses onto his childhood bed.  
  


* * *

  
The next morning Grace has gone all out for breakfast. Omelettes stuffed with Luther’s vegetables and sweet crepes with hazelnut spread and strawberries. Five busies himself with stuffing his mouth while Luther makes awkward smalltalk with Vanya. She’s back in her stranger guise, hair pulled back in a high ponytail that shows off her pale slender neck. After last night, he really shouldn’t be looking at her but he can’t help it. Stealing glances at her when he thinks she’s distracted, watching her pick at her food like a bird. She’s taking small careful bites of her omelette, a good half-size portion less than what he and Luther are eating.

Some things never change. She never had much appetite as a child either, always pushing her leftovers onto Five to finish for her when Reginald wasn’t looking. So wonder she’s still so tiny, even as a grown woman. He watches her down a pill with some water and blinks. Is she still taking her anxiety meds or is that something else? Reginald, the bastard that he was, kept her on heavy mood stabilizers when she was younger in an attempt to help control her emotions so that she would be better suited for company life.

It didn’t end up working out.

“ - sounds nice, Luther.” Her quiet voice breaks him out of his reminiscing. “We can go sometime this month.”

Luther beams at their sister and something ugly and dark twists in him. Go? Go where? When the hell did Luther and Vanya get all chummy? Luther didn’t care about anyone but Allison when they were kids. Five glares hotly at an oblivious Luther. It bothers him to think that Luther’s been spending time with her. It bothers him to think that Luther might know Vanya better than him.

God. What an absolutely morbid thought. He sinks back in his chair, chewing his bacon aggressively.

Five staunchly ignores the two of them once they’re in the car, choosing to sit in the front with the driver. Turning on his work phone and filtering his morning inbox, flagging urgent emails and rolling his eyes at bullshit ones.

But still. Vanya’s soft tenor and Luther’s rumble drift over to him and he can’t help but eavesdrop. They’re mostly discussing mundane things so he zones out for a while, scrolling through his newsfeed, when Vanya says something that immediately catches his attention.

“I’m thinking about visiting Klaus this weekend.”

Luther’s reply is tinged with concern. “By yourself? I can come with you - “

“That’s okay, Luther. But maybe you should set up your own visit?”

“I’m not sure if Klaus would want to see me...”

A flash of irrational anger explodes inside of him, hands curling into tense fists. So Vanya didn’t just keep a steady rapport with Luther, but their brother in rehab as well? At this rate, Five wouldn’t be surprised if she met up with Diego, the most removed of the siblings, as well. This doesn’t sit right with his image of her. Vanya was shy, reclusive, sensitive to her siblings’ criticism and isolated herself from everyone but him. He had been her sole companion.

 _Had_ being the key term here. Past tense. That isn’t true anymore. They haven’t been close for years. The Vanya he knows is just a distant memory now, replaced by a pretty stranger he has no idea what to do with.

This realization has the anger draining out of him, replaced with a numb sense of resentment.

 _Are you just going to blame her? Luther? Blame everyone but yourself, is that right Number Five?_ Reginald is his biggest critic so it would only make sense to hear his dad’s jeering taunt in his head. Five nearly thumps his head against the window, but he doesn’t want to attract attention from either of his siblings. He glares at the passing scenery instead, irate with himself.

When the three of them finally enter the uCorp building, Five heads straight to his office. Not before seeing Luther drop a hand on Vanya’s shoulder and squeeze affectionately. “See you for lunch?”

Vanya _smiles_ in response and Five feels winded. He slams the door closed, cutting off several employees trying to get his attention.

Fuck.

He stares blankly at his computer screen for a few moments, fuming, when Luther walks in with a cheerful expression. Only another Hargreeves could get away with entering his office without knocking. Five redirects his blank stare from his computer to his brother, wondering if he could get away with strangling him with his tie, when a devious idea comes to him.

“What’s your agenda for today?” he cuts in, interrupting Luther in the middle of whatever inane story he was telling.

Luther blinks. “Uh, not much today. Dad wants me to look over the revised budget for - “

“They can email you that,” Five dismisses. “I need you to do something for me. Go meet with Pulse’s CEO for lunch today. The acquisition is official, the lunch is just another formality. Soothe her wounded ego with the company card.”

Luther gapes at him. “Me? You want _me_ to go?”

Pulse specializes in electronics and their accessories, particularly their trendy headphones. Five managed to finally convince the CEO to let uCorp buy them out, and now all those trendy headphones would have the umbrella logo on the side. But, as with most acquisitions Five manipulated, the CEO was having seller’s remorse, bemoaning uCorp’s slick COO and his silver snake tongue. Actually, it was a good move to send Luther in his stead. Luther was likeable, a Golden Retriever personified. If the CEO complained about him, Luther could tell some embarrassing story from their childhood in a sign that not all the Hargreeves were as cutthroat as him.

It has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn’t want Luther getting lunch with Vanya. Not at all.

Luther seems pleased that Five’s trusting him with this. “Okay, no worries. I can go.”

Five smirks. Gotcha.

His mood is vastly improved for the rest of the morning. He’s able to have a productive few hours, sending Luther on his way around noon, and heading to the ground floor to grab his own lunch. He briefly considers making an appearance in the employee cafeteria, just to see what kind of reaction that would garner, but ultimately decides against it.

He has a plan, after all.

Vanya only ever seems to enter his office once he’s out. If she thinks he’s at a meeting then that means she should be there, leaving a cup of coffee and the designated snack of the day. And sure enough, when Five opens the door, holding his takeout bag in hand, Vanya is there.

She pauses, disbelief coloring her face for a moment. Then she’s back to polite placidity, straightening up. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought you were on lunch with Pulse so I - “

Five lifts up his takeout bag wordlessly. Vanya’s mouth closes shut. The air is awkward and stifled, thrumming with a strange energy. Once Five sits at his desk, Vanya takes her cue to leave with a quick “excuse me” but Five won’t let her go that easily.

“Do you need a raise?” he asks bluntly, unwrapping his sandwich. She’s left a slice of cheesecake for him this time. Five wonders what motivates her to leave these snacks when they never talk. Sentiment? Obligation? Would she give him an answer if he even asked?

Vanya looks startled. “Pardon?”

“The old man clearly isn’t paying you enough if you’re still slumming it at home.” He takes a huge bite of his sandwich, reveling in the crack on her perfect porcelain face. She’s wearing an olive green blouse with a beige skirt and nude pumps. She looks painfully perfect and Five loathes it with all of his being. “If you need more money, I can arrange that.”

Vanya fiddles with her fingers. An old nervous habit, something he attributes to her playing the violinist. _If_ she still plays. That had been her one joy when they were kids, she studied music theory for God’s sake, and it makes him sick to think about her not playing anymore. “Thank you sir, but that won’t be necessary.”

Her voice trembles slightly and Five wants to shake her. What is she doing here? Why is she working for dad? Why doesn’t her stupid hus -

She’s still messing around with her fingers. Five’s eyes narrow at her hands. Strong slender fingers. Manicured nails lightly painted. Absent of any jewelry.

Oh. He really is going to throw up now.

“Get out of here,” he grits out and Vanya doesn’t give him a chance to take it back. She’s out of his office in five seconds flat, leaving him alone with his stomach churning. The smell of her perfume is still in the air. It smells expensive, Chanel or Bvlgari. It doesn’t smell like her at all.

He tosses the rest of his sandwich into the trash can. He’s lost his appetite.  
  


* * *

_  
“Ben Hargreeves, Vice President of Design. May I ask who’s speaking?”_

His brother sounds the same as he always does, calm and collected. Usually going to Ben is enough to help reign in Five’s miserable temper, especially when directed at the rest of his siblings. But he’s at the edge of his rope, losing his goddamn mind, so he can’t help snapping.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands. “Jesus Christ, Ben, I’m supposed to count on you to warn me about our family’s shitshows.”

There’s a moment of silence. _“...Five?”_

Five snorts. “No, it’s fucking Klaus calling from rehab.”

Ben laughs lightly at that. _“Klaus wouldn’t waste his call on me. So what’s this about a shitshow? Did Allison decide she’s getting back with Patrick?”_

God. Five could imagine the field day the media would have if Allison did _anything_ involving her model ex-husband. They’d only been married for a few years but Allison was camera-hungry and flaunted her relationship for the world to see. Unfortunately that meant when it all fell apart, the cameras captured every ugly moment of that as well.

“I’m not talking about Allison,” he seethes. “Though while we’re on the subject, her department is a shithole by the way. Someone keeps leaking information and cameras are following me everywhere. Everywhere!”

 _“The price of success,”_ Ben teases him.

“You know who called me for an interview the other day? Buzzfeed. _Buzzfeed!_ They want me to read tweets! Who the fuck do they think I am? Keanu Reeves?”

_“God, you really **shouldn’t** read tweets about you. Your fangirls are crazy. Which I guess makes sense, since you’re crazy too bro.”_

“Fuck off, Ben.”

 _“You called me!”_ But there’s no trace of anger in his brother’s voice, no, Ben is amused on his behalf, cackling out load. Five takes the opportunity to unload and rants about the company’s issues - the general incompetence of managers, how annoying the Board has been lately, Reginald’s lack of support and cryptic bullshit he disguises as advice. He takes a moment to breathe and Ben can’t stop laughing. _“Aren’t you calling from the office right now? What time is it? Wait a sec - Five are you **drunk?** ”_

Five pours himself another portion of Scotch. “No,” he responds mulishly. He’s not drunk. He’s having a drink. There’s a difference. Plus he needs this to cope. He can’t keep frequently bars and losing his self control. Not now, when he’s only been COO for a couple of months.

 _“Alright, not drunk.”_ He can practically hear Ben rolling his eyes at him. _“In that case, are you done throwing your tantrum?”_

 _Not a tantrum,_ he thinks petulantly. He’s having a perfectly justified reaction given his discovery today. He leans back in his chair and repeats his question: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

_“Tell you what? How terrible the New York office is? Considering I’ve been in Korea for the past year, dude, I really had no idea. If you need to clean house that’s fine but -”_

Five throws an arm over his eyes, exhaling harshly. “I’m not talking about the office,” he hisses. “I’m talking about _Vanya._ ”

Fuck. Even saying her name is difficult, two little syllables that drip clumsily from his tongue, even though he used to… even though he used to…

He shoves aside his glass and takes a drink straight from the bottle.

Ben doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he’s quiet for so long, for a moment Five thinks his brother hung up on him. But then he sighs. _“I didn’t know Dad was gonna keep her there.”_

Five’s chest aches with Ben’s confirmation. He knew. He _knew._ How long? When did she come home? Was Ben there? Did he know why? Why was she working for Reginald?

Where the fuck was her wedding ring?

Bile rises in Five’s throat as more and more these troublesome thoughts pile steadily on top of each other, weighing down his mind. Ben’s worried voice in his ear is faded and faraway. For a second, he thinks that he’s going to throw back but he pushes through it. “Ben, what the fuck is going on with her?”

Ben sighs. He can picture his brother, the eternal peacemaker, with his forehead wrinkled. _“Five. It’s not my story to tell. I barely know the details as it is. You gotta ask V.”_

Five groans out loud at his response. Oh he’s sure that asking Vanya would go over just fine. Vanya’s always had an easygoing temperament, but even she has her limits. Five can’t see her appreciating him asking her personal questions about the status of her marriage or the whereabouts of her husband. He spent hours googling “Leonard Peabody” and aside from all the articles celebrating his engagement to Vanya a decade ago and uCorp buying his father’s company, there’s nothing recent. Sure, there are some tabloid articles questioning his whereabouts but other than that, he’s been wiped clean from the internet.

“She’s not wearing her ring.”

Ben sighs. _“Five - “_

“Is she divorced? At least tell me that, Ben, you gotta throw me a fucking bone here.” He feels desperate. He feels crazy. Everything he’s known for years was actually a sham and now he’s reeling from the magnitude of the reality. And he still doesn’t know the fucking truth.

 _“Five you know I care about both of you,”_ Ben says solemnly. _“And I know this has to be difficult. But, c’mon. You and Vanya have always been complicated. I honestly used to not recognize either of you whenever you were together. She’s different with you and that’s fine. None of my business. But when she got married you weren’t there. You left and you broke her heart dude. If you want to know anything, you’ve got to talk to her.”_

Maybe this is the real reason he called Ben. His brother has always been able to voice out difficult truths Five chose to ignore. There’s no lie in anything he just said and Five genuinely thinks he’s going to throw up. “I’m so fucking drunk,” he mumbles dumbly into the speaker.

_“I know, buddy. Go home and get some rest.”_

Home. Home is the Hargreeves estate where Vanya lives one floor below him. He can’t go home. He hangs up on Ben and opens a new tab. He’s got some real estate agents to email.  
  


* * *

  
The first time Five meets Leonard, it’s Vanya’s junior year. He’d finished his undergrad program in two years, working at uCorp under Reginald’s direct supervision before getting his MBA. Five had been the first of the Hargreeves to rebel but they all slowly followed him after that. Allison fucked off to become an actress, Klaus refused to go to college altogether, and Diego just ran away. Luther and Ben were the only two who actually fulfilled their dad’s wishes, going to business school and studying what he chose for them.

Vanya was a different case. Reginald had long dismissed her from the line of succession, not wanting her to get involved with the company. So she’d applied on her own, getting into Berklee’s music program. Five was incredibly busy but he made an effort to visit her every few months. The performances he couldn’t attend, he would send flowers to make up for it.

It wasn’t nearly enough, the time he gave her, but she always lit up whenever he came around. There was always some residual guilt festering inside him for leaving her the way he did from prioritizing work and school over her. Vanya was important and he needed her in his life, but Five’s position in the company was more important. He had to work harder than anyone else to meet Reginald’s ridiculous standards. His place in the company was precarious but Vanya’s love was always a guarantee.

And Vanya understood. He’d broken their childhood promise by leaving first but she understood. After all, she knew him better than anyone. He told her every time: “Once I’m CEO and you’re a famous violinist, we can do whatever we want.” At that point, their imagined future was the only promise he could afford to give. He didn’t have the spoons to let her have anything else. And even though he wasn’t giving her the time she wanted, the end would justify the means and it would all be worth it.

Plus he made _some_ effort. He’d been there the first time she got drunk and held her hair back when she puked in her shitty dorm room. He’d gone to her first solo performance, catching her in his arms when she ran to him afterwards. Given the circumstances, he thought it’d been enough.

But then, Leonard entered the picture.

Vanya introduces him, mentioning that his dad worked with theirs back in school, and owns a computer engineering firm. “So I guess my dad sorta helped yours build his empire?” Leonard laughs a little, running his hands through his hair self-consciously.

Five snorts. “If that was the case, why is this the first time I’ve ever heard of you?” Vanya smacks his arm lightly, a silent reprimand. Leonard’s features twist with frustration before that easygoing fake smile is back in place.

Five doesn’t think much of him. An average guy, unremarkable really, clearly wants to get into his sister’s pants. The last bit bothers him, and he keeps close to Vanya’s side for the duration of his visit, to her chagrin.

“Five,” she murmurs to him from where they had squeezed together in her tiny twin bed. She’s curled up against his chest, one arm looped loosely around her waist. His nose is buried in her hair. She smells like peaches. “Leonard is… my boyfriend I think?”

“You deserve better,” he responds instantly. Boyfriend, huh. It makes sense. Vanya, sensitive soul that she was with her inclination for the arts, was a romantic at heart. Five doesn’t have girlfriends. He has girls he fucks and that’s it. But he can’t imagine sweet Vanya hooking up with people the way he does. It makes sense that she’d want a boyfriend.

He doesn’t let it bother him.

But two years later, Allison sends him an e-invitation to an engagement party while he’s at a conference in Hong Kong. Vanya’s engagement. To Leonard.

He books a flight immediately.

The party has Allison written all over it. It’s hosted at the mansion, extravagantly decorated, with dozens of important people dressed in their best. All assholes who didn’t give a fuck about Vanya, only her last name. There’s a few faces Five recognizes and he forces his business face on, greeting them politely and entertaining their investment pitches. He sees Leonard first before he sees Vanya and the bastard looks so smug, Five is ready to deck him in the face.

Before he can entertain those thoughts, Ben and Klaus appear at his elbow, drinks in hand. “You’re not allowed to start a fight,” Klaus trills, pushing a margarita at him. Five doesn’t argue and downs it in seconds. That’s how he spends most of the night, sulking in the corner, drinking everything Klaus fetches him while Ben cheerfully redirects anyone attempting to strike up a conversation.

And then he sees her. Looking unreal in a [pale pink dress](https://www.neimanmarcus.com/p/la-femme-sequin-off-the-shoulder-short-fit-flare-dress-prod224940521?childItemId=NMTZLY5_&navpath=cat000000_cat000001_cat58290731_cat43810733_cat9360738&page=0&position=16&uuid=PDP_PAGINATION_c0893ae26682bc810b4cf0684e2f0674_DCVwO8Hh3Juap-8fsz5F7mHMfzER3o1J3erMXFtC.jsession) that floats around her thighs, hair curled lightly, lips painted a pretty pink. His heart leaps to his throat at the sight of her, drinking her in. It’s then that Five realizes he can’t remember the last time he’s seen her. Reginald had promoted him recently, wanting to get him on the fast track to getting his MBA. Everything’s been so hectic. The last big event he remembers was her graduation. Has he really not seen her properly since then?

For a moment, guilt weighs heavy in his gut. Then it’s soon replaced with outrage.

She’s getting _married._ How could she not tell him first? Why the fuck did he have to find out from Allison of all people?

Five watches with gritted teeth as she walks over to Leonard, smiling lightly. He can’t make out what either of them are saying but something makes Vanya’s smile drop, face shuttering close. Leonard looks frustrated but she turns away and heads towards the stairs.

Without really thinking about it, Five follows her.

She ends up in her old room, sitting on the bed with a forlorn expression. When Five opens the door, she looks shocked to see him. “Five? I… had no idea you were coming.”

He’s drunk. He’s piss drunk, and his favorite sister is getting married to an asshole that doesn’t deserve her. His favorite sister, who didn’t even think to tell him about it.

Looking at her hurts. She’s… beautiful, all dolled up, Allison’s doing he’s sure. She’s beautiful and he can’t even appreciate it because the only reason she’s dressed up is because she’s fucking engaged. The diamond ring glinting from her finger is taunting him. He wants to tear her hair out of her fancy bun and rip that dress to shreds. Wipe her face off so that _his_ Vanya is looking back at him.

He’s drunk and he’s angry. That’s the excuse he gives himself when the words slip out of his mouth, abrasive and angry. “Are you an idiot?”

Her face falls. “Wh-what?”

Five gestures wildly. “You’re getting married. To that fucking loser, and I can’t think of a single reason why you’d ruin your life like this. The only possible explanation is brain damage.”

Tears spring to her eyes. “Five, how can you even say that? I’ve been - I’ve been dating Leonard for three years now!”

“You’re only twenty-three!” he thunders back. “You should be focusing on your music and your career, not getting married. You’re making a rash decision without even thinking about it.”

She wipes at her face. Her makeup is running. “I have thought about it. Leonard proposed after graduation, “ - oh he could _kill_ that slimy bastard - “and I said no. But he’s been patient and I’m still going to work. D-Dad approves of it too so - ”

 _“Dad?”_ Five repeats incredulously. “Why the fuck does it matter if he approves? Dad has never given a shit about anything you do, ever, so why do you even care?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Vanya’s been upset since he started yelling but now she’s _angry._ Anger is familiar to Five, it lives under his skin ready to burst out at any moment. But Vanya has always been good-natured. She was never quick to anger like him. So seeing fury in her face is… something else entirely.

“You don’t get to barge in here and criticize my choices!” she screams at him, pushing at his chest. In his shock, he stumbles backwards. “You don’t get to do that, Five!”

The shock quickly wears off. He’s livid, getting up in her space until he’s pressed against her. “You’re the one that got engaged without telling me! You know how I found out? Fucking Allison, Vanya. That’s real classy of you.”

Vanya’s eyeliner is all smeared. Her cheeks are ruddy and mottled with tears.“I tried! I’ve tried so many times. But you’re always gone - Germany, China, Switzerland. Do you know how hard it is caring about you when you clearly don’t give a shit about me?”

That cuts him deep. They’ve argued before, little petty things that they got over almost immediately. But this is their first real fight and Five finds he doesn’t care for it at all. Doesn’t she realize the reason he’s so angry is because he _does_ give a shit?

“Fine,” he shouts. There’s a thousand more things he wants to say to her but he can’t. Can’t even stand to be in her presence. “Fine! Do whatever the fuck you want. See if I care.”

Vanya sobs his name but he turns away from her. He makes a quick stop in the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and avoids running into any of his siblings.

He gets his MBA at the end of the year. When Vanya gets married, he ignores the invitation in favor of snorting lines in Berlin. Everyone texts him various degrees of “Are you fucking serious?” and “Way to be an asshole.” Everyone but her. She leaves him a single voicemail that he deletes. He can’t stand to hear her voice and regret any of his decisions. He gets promoted. Vanya moves with Leonard a few states away. The years pass by and when Reginald offers him the role of Vice President of the European division, granted he’s willing to live in Germany, he takes it.

Five gets on that plane and desperately tries to forget the fact that his and Vanya’s last words to each other were hateful and angry, screamed at the top of their lungs.  
  


* * *

  
He’s in the middle of moving into his new apartment when Ben texts him. _Skyped w/ Vanya today. It made me remember our conversation. Did you ever talk to her?_

Well. No. Things with Vanya since their last encounter have been awkward. He’s been walking around with the knowledge that she has her husband’s last name but doesn’t wear his ring. Mulling over the absurd but very real possibility that she might not be married anymore.

Five hasn’t decided how he feels about it yet. But he’s taken to staring blatantly at her in the office. He knows she’s aware of it, she’s still perfectly professional, but her cheeks are more flushed than usual. She still leaves him snacks but they haven’t talked properly since. Plus now that he’s not staying home anymore, their opportunities to reconnect get slimmer and slimmer.

He could bullshit Ben but he decides to go for honesty: _I don’t even know what to say to her._

The answer is immediate. _I’ve got a suggestion! “I’m sorry.” Looks good, right?_ Ben’s text is accompanied with a series of stupid emojis. Five sighs. Easy for Ben to say. Ben has always been the emotionally intelligent of the seven of them. He knows their emotional needs better than they do.

 _You should’ve been a therapist,_ he texts back.

_Too bad we’re Hargreeves right?_

Five stares at that tweet for a long time. Ben’s right. They’re Hargreeves. They’re not normal and they never have been. The proper healthy response is to apologize to Vanya, ask if they could start over, and let her confide to him in her own time. That would be the _normal_ thing to do.

But that’s not Five.

Instead, he does some digging. He looks back at Reginald’s financial statements, looking for anything out of the ordinary. When nothing comes up, he hacks into the old man’s private accounts, purposely coding a harmless bug that glitches their systems. Stock prices fall for a week as a result of it, but ultimately it’s worth it to Five because he finally has something. An obscene, suspicious amount of money wired to a Eudora Patch, private detective, as well as their legal team.

He hires a private investigator once he’s got the names, a man who’s willing to get his hands dirty. It takes time, more time than he’d like but the old man is paranoid and buries things under a never ending money trail, covering up his every move. Ultimately, Five doesn’t find out everything he wants to.

But he’s got several incriminating photos, a blacked out court case summary, and a name. Harold Jenkins. Turns out Leonard Peabody was just an alias. The asshole’s real name was Jenkins and his dad _did_ work with theirs, but things had ended unpleasantly between them. There aren’t a ton of details in the case, Reginald tried to erase as much of it as possible, but Jenkins-Peabody was trying to steal some shit.

Five puts it together. Harold grows up with a grudge, hating old man Hargreeves for keeping success away from old man Jenkins. Vanya is his perfect way into the family. The fool tries to pull off a revenge plot, stealing trade secrets and selling them to their competitors, hoping to orchestrate the company’s demise.

Vanya is the one that caught him. Things got… physical. Five stares at the photos for a long time. Her split lip and her black eyes, Vanya’s eyes two dark empty wells. In that moment, he hates his dad viciously for not trying harder to get rid of him. The asshole is embarrassed that this happened under his watch and tried to make it disappear but Vanya is the one that suffers the consequences.

Of course, a lot of this is purely speculative. Five still doesn’t know what actually happened to Jenkins. He vaguely wonders if the old man had him killed. Or if he’s locked up somewhere. The curious part of him is still hungry for answers. Why in the world did this end up with Vanya working for Dad instead of being shoved into the background the way she always had been? There’s a lot of missing details but ultimately it doesn’t matter. He knows more than he did before and strangely enough, the knowledge, as sparse as it is, lifts a weight off his chest. He’s still angry, but it doesn’t feel as aimless and volatile as before, lashing out at Vanya multiple times, resenting her existence and mourning her at the same time while she remained unmoved by him. It’s a kind of anger that has focus and purpose, driving him to finally do things instead of getting drunk and bringing back women to his apartment.

It’s enough to change things between them. Or bring them back to the way they were before. Either way, Five’s prepared for any outcome.

Anything is better than the uncomfortable limbo they’re floating in.  
  


* * *

  
Five had lied. His and Vanya’s last words weren’t screamed, they were whispered. Desperate, agonized breaths leaving both their mouths in harsh pants as Five pushes his sister against the wall and kisses her furiously. One second they were yelling, his cheeks red with anger and her eyes full of tears and a heartbeat later they’re tangled up in each other. He doesn’t know who made the first move but at this point it doesn’t matter. Not when she’s soft and pliant in his arms, whimpering against his mouth. Every time they separate to breathe for air, Vanya is tugging him back in again, greedy insistent hands in his hair.

“Don’t marry him,” Five pants into her mouth. “Don’t do it, Vanya.”

Vanya shudders and turns her head away while he sucks a bruise into the delicate skin of her neck. He pushes his hands up her dress to paw at her, feeling her soft smooth skin. She’s not wearing a bra and she whimpers when he squeezes her tits, rolling her nipples between his fingers until they pebble.

This isn’t fair. She doesn’t belong with a loser like Leonard. She’s a Hargreeves. She should be with _him._

He hikes up her fancy dress up past her chest, drinking in her pale naked skin. She turns pink under his intense, assessing stare, biting down on her lower lip. “Don’t look at me like that,” she pleads in a hushed voice. Five wants to tell her that he can look at her any way he likes. He wants to turn that pink blush into a deep red. He wants to map every inch of her delicate body with his mouth. Really take his time with her.

But he’s well aware of the party going on downstairs, of the dozens of people still in the house while he undresses his sister. A fierce sense of urgency takes over him and he doesn’t tease the way he wants to. “I’m looking ‘cause you’re perfect,” he murmurs softly. That’s the only warning he gives her before attacking her, biting red marks on the curve of her breasts, squeezing her hips, and rubbing her belly. He’s so hungry for her, filling his hands and mouth with her is not enough. She’s the best kind of drug, intoxicating and addicting, his head is spinning from her taste and smell.

Vanya whimpers when he drops to his knees, grinning at the sight of her soaked underwear, pale blue lace that clings to the outline of her cunt. He doesn’t hesitate and grabs hold of it with his teeth, ripping it away from her skin easily, making her gasp. Her fingers fly to his hair, pulling tight at the strands while Five nuzzles her pussy, licking around her clit until she’s dripping for him. She chants his name in a breathless whimper, tugging at his hair and shrieking as he forms a seal around her sensitive nub and sucks, hard. He doesn’t let up until she’s grinding her pussy against his face, her slick smearing all over his face.

Her legs are still trembling when he comes up for air. “Vanya,” he rasps, kissing her belly reverently. His cock is so hard in his slacks it’s almost painful. She taps impatiently at his shoulders, a silent demand for him to come to her.

He goes.

For a while, the rest of the world fades away. Five isn’t thinking about the party downstairs, or the ring on Vanya’s finger. Nothing matters but her. Everything narrows down to the hot wet clench of her pussy around his cock as he drives into her, fucking her against the wall without mercy. Her legs are wrapped around his waist, her hands clinging to his shoulders, holding on for dear life, trying to muffle her moans into the crook of his neck.

“You feel so good,” he growls lowly, kissing her sweaty forehead. “So wet on my cock. You _smell_ good. Like - “

She smells like peaches. The same why she always does and this fact makes him so deliriously happy and horny, he grabs hold of her hips tight and slams into her, aiming for that sensitive spot deep inside. Over and over until she’s holding back screams.

When she comes, she bites down so hard on his neck, he’s sure that she’s drawn blood. This thrills him, that she’s made her mark on him while she shudders through her orgasm. Limbs locking taut around him while she squeezes down on him so deliciously, he completely blanks out. A few seconds later he comes back to himself, cock still throbbing and Vanya a quivering mess of limbs in his arms.

He carefully peels her away from the wall and carries her over to the bed, dropping her gently with his body weight pinning her down. Her makeup is totally ruined, her blissful fucked-out expression filling him with unexpected tenderness.

Five keeps his eyes on her face as he slides back into her waiting heat. Her eyes roll back in pleasure, arching up into his touch. “Five, it feels good,” she whines, moving her hips along with his rough thrusts. “How does it feel so good?”

 _Because it’s us,_ he thinks wildly. Because they belong together. He presses his mouth against her, a sweet soft touch that contrasts with the way he’s pounding her into the mattress. “You should be mine,” he gasps against her heated face, peppering tiny kisses all over her. “Vanya - you - “

He comes with a shout, hips still pumping as he fills her up with his load. He collapses on top of her, heart thundering in his chest, panting harshly against her neck. Vanya’s gone still beneath him, breathing ragged, and when he finally summons the energy to get up, she curls up into a little ball.

Her shoulders are shaking as Five pulls his slacks back up, putting on his belt with unsteady hands. For a moment he just stares at her slight figure, the gravity of what they’ve just done descending upon them. “Vanya,” he starts thickly. What can he even say to her? To run away with him? To let go of this farce of an engagement?

He’s still mulling it over when Vanya makes the decision for him. She’s a wreck, hair all tangled, dress rumpled. She’s not looking at him when she says “I need to get back to the party” in a robotic tone.

Ice floods his veins. “No, you don’t.” It’s humiliating, how pathetic and defeated he sounds. She refuses to look at him.

She stumbles to her feet, her face devoid of any emotion. “I need to get back to the party,” she repeats and Five… can’t be there anymore. He can’t watch her descend back into that lie after what they’ve just done. After that raw and real moment between them. He wants to scream at her. Sex isn’t like that for everyone. It was special because it was _them._

But she doesn’t want to choose him. She would rather live in a lie. It’s a hard truth to swallow.

Numbly, he picks up his suit jacket from where he’d tossed it on the ground. He leaves her still looking for her panties. It’s no use. He tore that thing to shreds.

When Five drives off, he tries his best to forget. He tries not to think about Vanya dancing in the arms of her sleazy fiancé, her brother’s cum dripping down the inside of her thigh.  
  


* * *

  
The release date of their new Umbrella operating system is fast approaching and the office is in chaos. People are running around like headless chickens, finalizing the advertising campaign, fixing out bugs in the code, talking to shareholders. Everyone is busy, Five doubly so. This is the excuse he gives himself for not talking to Vanya despite being armed with the truth of Harold.

Unfortunately, this comes to bite him in the ass later because _she_ gets assigned as his temporary assistant for the launch event, throwing him off-kilter. Vanya won’t look him in the face but she’s efficient and skilled and Five is both proud of her and sad for her. His personal feelings take a backseat a few days before the launch as he mutates into a stress-driven monster of a man, roaring at everyone over their incompetence and reciting his speaking points under his breath over and over.

Vanya keeps him sane. She doesn’t flinch in the face of his temper, piles him with caffeine, forces him to go home to sleep. When all is said and done, the launch is successful, Five ending the announcement with a few teasers of uCorp’s schedule, and stock prices shoot through the roof. Overall, victory to the Hargreeves.

Five means to thank her but he gets overtaken by people who want to talk to him, uCorp’s brilliant visionary of a COO and she slips away before he can get her alone.

That private moment doesn’t come until the next night at the launch party. He’s entertaining the foolish whims of some shareholders who want to take a chance on some foreign media investments when he sees her in the corner of his eye. He excuses himself, heading in her direction. She’s talking to some lead programmer he doesn’t recognize, dressed in an [elegant strapless gown](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/monique-lhuillier-paradise-print-silk-organza-gown/product/0400011857405?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306640926&R=843256118590&P_name=Monique+Lhuillier&N=306640926&bmUID=n0aiFz2), hair done in a fancy updo, showing off her shoulders. With a flute of champagne in one hand, and a practiced perfect smile painted on her lips, it hits Five hard that Vanya looks just like a Hargreeves. The kind that Reginald wanted her to be all along.

He taps the programmer on the shoulder, smirking at the awestruck look on his face. “I’m stealing my sister,” he announces, grabbing a surprised Vanya by the wrist and dragging her outside the venue for some air.

“Sir? Is something wrong?”

He frowns at her. “Don’t call me ‘sir’ here,” he mutters as he releases her wrist. “Or for that matter, don’t call me that at all. Five is perfectly acceptable.”

Vanya is unmoved by his words. “That would be very inappropriate,” she say, frosty as a crisp winter morning.

“I’m your brother,” he replies and he’s satisfied at the frustration that glints in her eyes. “Anyways, I wanted to tell you that you did a good job. Your hard work the past work is appreciated.”

Vanya blinks, clearly taken aback by the turn in conversation. “I… thank you.”

“You know,” he continues lightly as if the past six months between them haven’t been awkward as all hell, and conversing like this is a regular occurrence for the two of them. Vanya’s keeping a good amount of distance between them, her shoulders ramrod straight. Five admires her defenses. “You would make a good personal assistant. I’m looking for one as you’re well aware.”

“Yes I’m aware,” Vanya rebukes, frowning lightly. “You’ve fired seven people. They call that position cursed, you know. Nobody wants to apply anymore.”

“All the more reason for you to do it,” he responds cheerfully. But Vanya doesn’t laugh with him. She stares at him with those big damning eyes of hers, the one thing he can always recognize even when she’s all dressed up.

“What are you doing Five?” She sounds tired, fingers wrapped tight around her champagne glass. “Why are you talking to me like…” She stops herself, looking away, and Five wishes she would finish her sentence. He wants everything from her, her ugly truths and pretty lies.

He doesn’t blame her for asking. Not at all. Apart from terse work conversations, this is the most they’ve talked to each other in a casual setting. Though this can’t truly be considered casual, not when Vanya has her walls up, on the defensive.

Right then. Time to bring out the big guns. “I know about Harold,” he says slowly, watching her recoil in horror. “I know he hurt you. I know Dad brought you into the company against your will.” He takes a step forward and Vanya jerks away from him, a frightened wounded animal running away from its prey. He puts his hands up, to show that he means her no harm. “I was cruel when I returned. Childish, honestly. I know that. But I won’t behave like that any longer. I’ll protect you, Vanya. I’ll take care of you - “

The splash of liquid in his face breaks his stride. He blinks. Vanya’s breathing heavily, her champagne glass outstretched towards him. She just threw champagne in his face. Never in his life, has this ever happened to him.

He bursts into laughter. It rings true and honest from his chest, so utterly amused at the _absurdity_ of shy little Vanya growing the balls to throw alcohol in his face. He’s amazed. How much has she changed in all their years apart? He wants to know everything. Dissect her until he’s intimately acquainted with every part of her, like he used to be.

Five’s laughter shocks Vanya into motion and she stumbles forward, stammering apologies as she produces a handkerchief out of nowhere, blindly patting his face dry. This is the closet she’s been to him since he came back. He takes his chance, seizing her wrist and leaning in close, so that their noses brush. Her Chanel perfume is burning his nostrils.

“I miss when you smelled like peaches,” he breathes out, a sincere intimate confession just for them. Vanya looks as though he’s slapped her, shock and hurt blooming openly on her face. When she pulls away from him, he lets her, releasing her wrist and watching her run away from him.

This is the last time he’ll allow either of them to run.  
  


* * *

  
Vanya’s stopped leaving him snacks. Understandable, given their last encounter, but Five’s a little surprised she didn’t continue for appearance’s sake. But he supposes it’s a good thing. That means she’s affected by their conversation, affected by _him._ Lucky for her, he’s busy with shareholder meetings this week, so he can’t find the time to hunt her down.

Unluckily for her, the minute he’s free, all it takes is a professional email, marked as urgent, requesting her presence in his office to see her again.

He smirks at her when she enters, shoulders set straight like a shoulder. “Do you want coffee?” he offers, gesturing for her to sit down. She remains standing. “Sorry to say that it’s not as good as yours. I miss your coffee.”

“I can get one of the interns to bring you Pete’s in the morning,” she answers dully.

“Why would I drink Pete’s when I could have Vanya coffee? Prepared with love?” He’s teasing her, it’s been so long since he’s done that, he nearly forgot how easy it was. Vanya’s expression remains blank and his smile drops. He gestures again towards the seat. “Vanya, please.”

“What was so urgent, sir?” Vanya’s fiddling with her hands again and he wants to take them in his, squeeze them tight to reassure her of his goodwill. She still won’t sit down so Five stands up instead, walking over to her.

“Our conversation. We never finished it.” Her gaze is fixed pointedly at the ground while Five looks down at her. “Listen. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. You reached out and I pushed you away. It was wrong.”

Vanya exhales slowly. She understands him, she should know this is his version of an apology. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes I did,” he insists. God, she’s so close to him, he’s itching to touch her. Grabbing her at the party was a mistake because he can’t get her out of his head. Her thin wrist in his grip, his nose in her hair. He wants to touch her with a desperation he’s wholly unfamiliar with.

“Did you know I missed you?” he asks suddenly, changing the course of their talk. She looks up at that, blinking at him. “While I was in Germany. I thought about you all the time. I thought about you, in your white dress, getting married - “

She makes a wounded noise. “Five, _don’t._ ”

“ - and I hate that I left because if I was here, I would’ve figured it out. I wouldn’t have let him keep you.” Part of him hopes that Reginald really did take care of Harold Jenkins, because if that asshole ever shows his face again, Five doesn’t think he could control himself.

Vanya’s looking at him like he’s lost his mind. And maybe he has. He doesn’t care. He’ll say anything if that means she’ll come back to him.

“You weren’t there,” her voice is shaking with unfiltered emotion. “You weren’t there, you don’t know what happened, so stop - stop pretending like you do!”

“I know,” Five says beseechingly, reaching out to her. “I know, Vanya, and I’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you - “

“Don’t say that!” Her voice rises, startling both of them. She backs away from him, shaking her head. “We can’t, we can’t go back to the way we were, Five. It’s too late for us. We’ll never be normal.”

He could laugh. Normal. What a concept. He doesn’t want normal, he’s never wanted normal. Hasn’t she realized that by now? He steps closer to her, crowding her up against the door. “I don’t want to go back. I only want to move forward. Don’t you understand, Vanya?”

Five kisses her before she can respond.

She’s frozen stiff against him and Five sighs against her mouth, plush and warm, pushing his tongue out to try to get her to open up. This shocks her into action and she shoves him as hard as she can. But Five’s prepared for that, catching her wrists with his hand, and looking down at her with a heady gaze. Twin pink spots are blossoming on her cheeks, eyes darting from him to the doorknob frantically. _“What the hell are you doing?”_ she whispers because Vanya is a Hargreeves now and she’s looking out for his reputation.

What a good sister.

A smile grows on his face. “Have I told you how much I like your skirts? What’s your favorite store - I’ll buy you a dozen more.”

She looks mortified. “Five - “

“And on the weekends, I want to take you out. When was the last time you went to the orchestra?”

Vanya shakes her head. “Wh-What, what do you want from me?” she stammers, trying to wriggle out of his iron grip.

He sighs. “What do I want? That’s simple, Vanya, stop pretending you don’t know. I just want you.”

He wants her, hair unbound, laughing openly with him, linking her arm with his. He wants her, in his apartment, wearing nothing but his button-down and cooking eggs at the stove. He wants her right now, on her knees, over his desk, in his lap - squirming and squeaking and sweating, just for him. He’s wanted her for so long and he’s not going to deny himself of her any longer.

“You. Are. _Crazy._ ” The words come out venomous but her cheeks are still painted that pretty pink. He understands her reservations completely. She’s been hurt, still licking at wounds that haven’t properly healed, and he doused all of them with salt upon his return. There’s no way she’d trust him so easily.

“Only crazy for you, baby,” he mutters and Vanya brings her heel down on his foot in a firm movement, stunning him into releasing her. She grabs the doorknob, looking back at him with a wild look on her face.

Five puts his hands up in surrender, stepping backwards to his desk. “Fix your makeup, sweetheart. Your lipgloss is all smeared.”

Vanya reddens, furiously rubbing at her mouth, before she’s out of his office in a flash.

Five collapses onto his seat, sighing. That could’ve gone better. But it could’ve also gone worse. He’s not an idiot, he’s well aware he’s playing a dangerous game with Vanya, especially since Dad is keeping an eye on her.

The truth of the matter is that he simply doesn’t care anymore.

Five had turned himself inside out trying to forget her for all these years. But all of his efforts were futile. If moving to the other side of the world wasn’t enough to get her out of his system, nothing else would ever work. Vanya is a part of him, one that he can’t seem to kill off. This used to anger him. Now, he just wants her back where she belongs.

They’re supposed to be together. He knew this years ago and repressing it did nothing. Now, he won’t stop until she comes to the same conclusion. One way or another, he’ll guide her back to him.

He can guarantee it.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you like it pleaaaase let me know this is possibly the strangest thing I've ever written for these two and I still don't know how I feel about it!


End file.
